Progenitor Art and Literary Journal

My daughter Grace Wagner edited this year's addition of Arapahoe Community College's art and literary journal, Progenitor. Ryan Zimmerman was her co-editor. For some beautiful artwork, and some good poetry, nonfiction, and fiction click 2015 Progenitor. Do not be dismayed if you go to the home page and see the 2014 Progenitor cover. It is in fact taking you to the 2015 issue. (By the time you click this, that may be corrected.)

I am especially pleased to be included in this issue with my "Click" a piece of short fiction. And even though Grace is my daughter, the selection committee had no idea "Click" was by anyone related to her. They chose it because they liked it and not because they like Grace -- though I'm very pleased that they like her, too.

This is my first short fiction to be published. Many years ago I had poetry published in several literary journals. I couldn't afford to continue submitting poetry. In those days we didn't have cell phones and anything outside our area code was long distance. Not to mention that literary journals only paid two free copies of the issue your poetry appeared in. And there was no such thing as journals online. I couldn't afford the phone calls to brag and the extra copies to show.

I've also written for two small town papers in Oklahoma.

When I was in college I wrote a Women's Sports column for the Edmond Sun-Booster -- no pay, but I got to go to all Central State College's women's sports events. I wasn't good enough to make the teams, but I could write. and where there's a will . . . .

Years later when I was pregnant with my son I did obituaries, covered the local courthouse, wrote feature articles complete with photography, and edited the Women's Page at the Guthrie Daily Leader. 

For some reason I can't explain, the acceptance of this short story seems more important. (Maybe I'm entering my dotage.)

       "Dear Claudia Wagner, 
       The staff at the Progenitor Art & Literary Journal has accepted your submission for
        publication. Congratulations! Click has been accepted for the 2015 issue and will
        also be published in the online edition of Progenitor." 

These were the magic words via email.

And they invited me to read three minutes worth of "Click" at the release party. Hooray!

The party was held in ACC's Gallery of the Arts. I got to meet Stephanie Rowden, the Fiction Editor, and visit again with the staff sponsor Dr. Kathryn Winograd.

                                 

             Stephanie Rowden, Fiction Editor       &               Dr. Kathryn Winograd,

                                                                                                    Staff Sponsor

They let me read early on the program which allowed me to fully enjoy the other presenters. We were surrounded by fine art, served with tasty infused water (which I needed before I read) and comestibles of the most enticing kind (which I did not need.)

And to repeat what I wrote so many times back in my Women's Page Editor days -- A good time was had by all.

Click -- Short Fiction

image from chicagotribune.com

This is an excerpt from my short fiction Click published in this year's Progenitor, Arapahoe Community College's art and literary journal.

She missed them. All of them. Her fine, serious, hard-working father. He was a cowboy. A real cowboy. His hat sweat stained and misshapen from rain and snow and worse. All from work, not bought new looking like that. What did some singer know about hats like that? They might know about hard living, but what did they know about hard work?

She could still see him and her momma two-stepping around the VFW Hall.

She didn’t understand how she’d become who she was. They’d never had much, but it always seemed they’d had enough. They just knew how to make things come out right.

Click.

She muted the TV. The sports news and a rerun that wasn’t that funny the first time it aired came and went. She didn’t care about sitcoms with their nice houses and fine clothes and stupid problems. She was waiting for 9:59. She touched the ticket nestled in her pocket.  Six numbers – 6, 23, 27, 42, 54, and 9.

The woman with the machines that spat out five white balls and one red ball appeared on the screen.

Click.

She turned the sound back on. The announcer said, “23.” She had that number, but one match paid exactly nothing unless it was the power ball number. That would be $4.00. Not even enough to buy a cappuccino at Starbucks.

The announcer said, “27.” She didn’t look at the ticket. It didn’t mean anything yet. Once she’d won $7.00 with three matching numbers and no power ball number.

Click.

The door knob turned and he came in. Walking pretty steadily.

“I’m going to take a shower then go to bed,” he said.

She glanced at the TV screen and saw the numbers 6 and 54. Four matching numbers. That was $100. She’d never won that much before. One more would be a million dollars even without the power ball.

She heard him start the shower.

No “sorry, I’m late.” Or “how was your day?”

A good thing he was taking a shower. Did he think she couldn’t smell the alcohol on him? And sex? Never mind the perfume. Perfume that probably cost enough to pay the damn gas bill so he could have a hot shower.

Click.

She turned on the light in the bedroom and took a blue velvet bag down from the top closet shelf. It was heavier than she remembered. She removed the Smith and Wesson Model 10 from its bag. It was worth four or five hundred dollars. The only thing she had worth anything. Her insurance. Not enough to pay the rent, but worth more than anything else she had.

Her father left it to her. Not a big gun, but big enough to do the job he’d always said.

She went back into the front room. The pistol grip fit her hand perfectly. She held it, cradled it against her bare arm like a baby, its metal silky smooth and cool.

This story was also awarded Honorable Mention at the 2015 Rose State Writing Short Course. Click here for the whole story.